


Take Care

by secretlylarry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Sick!Harry, Sickfic, really really obnoxiously dotting fluffy larry fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-01-03
Packaged: 2018-01-07 05:52:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1116290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretlylarry/pseuds/secretlylarry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis really does love to take care of Harry when he's sick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Care

Louis often forgets there was a time his subconscious life didn't completely revolve around Harry. There was a time where he didn't walk by the bread isle at Tesco and instinctively grab that disgusting 9 grain bread Harry's obsessed with. There was a time he didn't have to double check that the top drawer next to the kitchen sink was closed at night so Harry didn't walk into it and bruise his hip in the morning. There was a time he didn't automatically make two cups of tea when he woke up, knowing Harry would stumble out of the bedroom in a few minutes. And as he returns home from work one particularly long, tiring Friday afternoon, he realizes there was a time he didn't unlock the front door to his flat every night with a grin and an embarrassing amount of butterflies (even after 4 years) knowing that his boyfriend would be waiting inside.

"Smells fuckin' awesome in here, Haz," Louis says happily as he rounds the corner into the kitchen after toeing his boots off at the front door. He knew Harry had been planning on preparing dinner for when Louis returned home, but the excitement hits him all over again as the scent of garlic bread hits his nose. 

Louis is surprised, to say the least, when the site he's greeted with is his boyfriend half-hunched over the kitchen sink, knuckles white where his hands are gripping the counter. It's obvious Harry hasn't noticed him there yet from the way his eyes are squeezed shut, body jolting with the soft retches coming from his throat. After a moment, the smell of the garlic is taken over by the smell of sick, and Harry spits into the sink.

"Babe?" Louis asked softly, dropping his wallet and phone on the counter. Harry jumps a bit, startled, as he looks over at Louis.

"Oh, sorry, hey," Harry rasps, and Louis' heart breaks.

Harry's face is pale, a bit sickly green looking, too, and his eyes are red and bleary and tired. His lips are dry and chapped, a little more pink than usual, and there's a bit of a flush to his cheeks as well. His hair is messy, shoulders slumped a bit, and he just looks so sick that Louis wishes he could take away whatever it is from him.

"Oh, Harry," Louis frets, stepping forward to brush some sweaty curls off Harry's face. "You're sick." Harry shakes his head and shrugs a bit.

"'m fine," he murmurs pathetically, wiping a hand down his face. "Just something I ate, I think. Not sick. Just a tummy ache. Got it all out. 'm fine. Gonna- gonna finish dinner." Harry turns back to the stove where a pot of water is sitting, but Louis grabs his arm and spins him back around.

"Harry," he whispers sadly, lifting a hand to graze Harry's forehead. It's warm. Definitely way too warm. "You're sick. You have a fever. You just threw up." Harry shrugs sadly, glancing over at the sink, avoiding Louis eyes. Harry hates being taken care of, hates having to be a burden to anyone, hates being an inconvenience. He'll do anything to avoid it, but Louis never lets him get away with it. "Come on, babe. Let's get you changed and into bed, yeah?" Harry whimpers softly, in protest, Louis thinks, but lets Louis tug him away.

In the bedroom Louis guides Harry to sit on the bed, crouching down in front of him to pull his shoes off. He pulls off his jeans next, with some difficulty given how tight they are, and exchanges them for a pair of warm sweatpants (Normally, Harry doesn't wear any pants to bed, but he's absolutely shivering now and all Louis wants is to warm him up). He gets a sweatshirt from Harry's side of the closet and helps Harry get into that, as well.

"Sorry, Lou," Harry mumbles as Louis shifts his boyfriend back onto the pillow, helping him slip under the covers. "Wanted to make your favorite for dinner."

"Sh sh sh," Louis interrupts, grabbing the extra blanket from the end of the bed to cover Harry with, as well. "Stop it, you. You shouldn't have even been cooking in the first place. How long have you been feeling sick?" Louis sits down beside Harry once he's got him all settled in, massaging the tips of his fingers through his hair. Harry shrugs.

"Felt a little off this morning," he murmurs, his eyes slipping shut at the comforting feeling of Louis' touch. "Thought it was just that weird dish Niall made last night. but then I was all cold and shaky and tired and stuff." Louis sighs sadly.

"Why didn't you text me, love? Or at least try to rest?"

Harry shrugs again, snuggles down further into the covers. His breathing is slowing down, his words more groggy sounding. "Didn't wanna bother you. Wanted dinner ready for you."

Louis smiles fondly and leans down, pressing a kiss to Harry's too warm forehead. "Thank you, babe. I appreciate it. But you rest now, okay? I'm gonna run to the store and grab a few things for you, but you try to sleep for a little."

Harry nods a bit, eyes fluttering shut, his face finally relaxing. With one last kiss to his forehead, Louis tiptoes out, cleans the sink, shuts off the oven, and makes his way to the store.

*

Louis' gone for as little time as possible, picking up only a few necessities at the drug store down the street; some crackers, ginger ale, tea, a bit of medicine, and he even splurges on a heated blanket because he cannot stand to see how much his boy is shivering. He makes it back to the flat in less than fifteen minutes where he fills a glass with some ginger ale, arranges a few crackers in a bowl, takes out a few paracetamol, and tucks the blanket under his arm. He quietly rushes into the bedroom where Harry is nothing more then a softly snoring lump under a pile of blankets. He flips on the bedside lamp and sits down gently, pulling back the covers to reveal Harry's face. 

"Harry, love," he whispers, fingers brushing softly at his warm cheek. "Come on, wake up for a second." Harry stirs a little before his eyes finally open, wincing slightly at the light. He looks up at Louis with red, droopy eyes, and Louis almost whimpers at how cute he looks. "Can you sit up a little?" he asks him, "Just to take some medicine and get something in your stomach." Harry nods a bit and, with great difficulty and some help from Louis, sits himself up against the headboard. "There ya go, babe," Louis praises, pressing the cool glass of ginger ale into one of Harry's hands and the two pills into the other. "Just take these. Should get your fever down a little bit. The ginger ale will help with your stomach, too. Then you can sleep the rest of the night, okay?" 

Harry nods in response and downs the pills quickly, shivering as he takes a few sips of the cold liquid in his cup. Louis encourages him to eat a few of the crackers he's brought in before he sees Harry's eyes start to drift shut again while still holding a half eaten cracker.

"Okay, Harry," Louis says, a bit sadly, but also with an amused tone at the sight of Harry's dazed look. "Back to sleep for you, let's go." Louis helps him slip back down under the covers, leaving the ginger ale and crackers on the table beside him. He plugs in the heated blanket and turns it to a higher setting, draping it over Harry's body. Harry barely seems to even register what's really going on, but smiles up thankfully at Louis anyways. Louis presses his lips to Harry's cheek before tucking the blankets in a little closer. 

"I'm gonna clean up the kitchen and grab something to eat quick, then I'll come lay with you, sound good?" Harry nods a little bit.

"Thanks, Lou. Love you lots and lots." 

_God you're cute,_ Louis thinks. "Love you, too," he says.

*

Louis cleans the kitchen as quickly as he can. He tosses the slightly burnt garlic bread Harry had been working on in the trash, empties out the untouched pot of water, and rinses, bleaches, rinses again, and soaks the sink with dish soap. He makes himself the most pathetic and quick dinner of a banana and a bowl of cereal and almost chokes while trying to rush through eating it, but manages to finish it in record time. He leaves the dirty dish in the sink because he really can't stand to be away from such a sick Harry for any longer. 

Louis strips himself down to just a pair of boxers when he gets into the bedroom because he knows it's going to be stifling hot under all the blankets. He quietly slips under the blankets next to Harry, who is thankfully, completely out cold. Louis shuffles a little closer to him and rests a hand against his forehead. He's still pretty hot, maybe not quite as bad as before, but enough to be considered a fever. Louis is insanely worried about Harry, of course, because he knows Harry is probably not letting Louis know how horrible he actually feels. He tends to do this; downplay how bad things are for him because he hates putting his problems on other people. Louis hates it.

"Lou?" Harry whimpers softly from beside him, shuffling a little under his covers. "Lou, where-"

"I'm here, Harry," Louis whispers quickly, pulling back the pile of blankets to reveal Harry's face. "What's up, love?"

"'s hot," Harry whispers, his feet kicking at the blankets covering him, his legs twisting and tangling in the covers. "Too hot."

"Alright, babe, one sec." Louis slips out from under the covers and comes to Harry's side of the bed, pulling the blankets off of him one by one until just the sheet is left. Harry's hot and sweaty and Louis thinks it would help him if he took a cool shower, but his eyes are already half closed by the time Louis finishes. "Better?" Harry just nods.

'"Yeah, Lou. Thanks. You're the best."

The night continues on sort of like that. Harry getting cold, Louis covering him back up, Harry getting hot, Louis taking the covers back off. He convinces Harry to take a few more rounds of medicine, drink some water, and eat a few more crackers before he finally falls into a restful sleep. Louis forces himself to stay awake for an hour or so after Harry's closed his eyes to make sure he's comfortable before finally allowing himself to drift off.

*

Louis isn't sure what time it is when he opens his eyes again, but it's s till pitch black out so he knows it's not morning yet. He forgets, for a second, the previous nights events, and reaches over to pull Harry closer to him only to realize the side of the bed is empty. He rolls over a bit and sees the light from the bathroom spilling out from under the door, then hears the sound of soft gagging, and remembers. 

Louis sighs and pushes himself upright, slipping out from under the covers. He grabs the first dirty t-shirt he sees lying on the ground and puts it on before making his way over to the bathroom door. He knocks softly a few times, just as a warning, before pushing the door open.

He finds Harry sitting against the bathtub, legs stretched out in front of him. He's got one arm leaning against the toilet to keep himself upright, the other clutched at his stomach. When he hears the door open he glances up at Louis, eyes wide and glassy, face pale with a a few red blotchy spots, mouth slack and bottom lip trembling.

"Sorry," he murmurs guiltily, closing his eyes as he learns his forehead against his arm that's rested on the toilet. Louis furrows his eyebrows as he crouches down to sit beside Harry.

"Why are you apologizing, babe?" Louis asks softly, his hand coming up to rub Harry's back. "You're sick. It's okay. Happens to everyone."

"You had a long day at work, though," Harry rasps, lifting his head against to look at Louis. "Don't wanna keep you up." 

"Harry-" Louis' words are cut off as Harry lurches for the toilet again, his body shuddering as he retches. Louis shuffles forward to rub a hand against Harry's back, his other hand pushing the damp curls from his forehead. He waits patiently for Harry's illness to stop for the time being. 

It takes a few minutes for Harry to finally slump back against the tub once more. When he does, Louis reaches up to grab a wad of toilet paper and folds it up, using it to wipe Harry's mouth off. Harry tries to protest but Louis shushes him quickly. He tosses the toilet paper into the toilet and flushes it before closing the lid and lifting Harry to sit down on top of it. He gets a wash cloth from under the sink and soaks it in cold water, folding it over a few times, then resting it against Harry's sweaty neck. Harry lets out a soft, relieved sigh as his body cools down instantly, and he slumps back a little against the toilet. While Harry's resting for a second Louis grabs his pink toothbrush and wets it, squirts some toothpaste onto it, then hands it to Harry. Harry thanks him softly and brushes his teeth as quickly as he can, leaning over to spit into the sink. 

"Do you wanna shower quick?" Louis asks as he pushes Harry's hair away from his face to get a better look at him. He rests his hands against his warm cheeks, his thumbs brushing at the dark circles under his eyes. Harry grunts softly and shakes his head.

"Wanna lie down," he whispers, shivering now, closing his eyes and leaning into Louis' touch. Louis pouts a little and presses a kiss to Harry's forehead before helping him to stand up and walk back into the bedroom. Like before, he helps him get under the covers, all warm and comfortable and bundled up, before throwing the heated blanket over him again. He also gets him to drink a little more water with some gentle coaxing " _you'll get dehydrated, Haz_ ". 

Louis finally gets a chance to glance at the alarm clock, which reads 4:22 am. He lets out a soft, sad, frustrated sigh.

"'m really sorry, Lou," Harry whispers. And Louis knows its not just out of habit, he's saying this, or because the timing feels right. He honestly knows that Harry truly feels guilty right now, which is insane, to say the least, because to be frank, Louis has never seen Harry this sick before.

"Harry," Louis says sternly as he climbs into bed. He shifts closer to the younger boy, propping himself up to look down at him. Harry glances over, his bottom lip sucked into his mouth where Louis knows his teeth are gnawing at it. "You gotta stop this, okay? It's alright to have to be taken care of from time to time."

Harry sighs softly and glances up at the ceiling, silent for a moment, just thinking. "I know, I just- you work hard all week. I like being able to take care of you when you get home."

Louis smiles a little bit at how goddamn fucking sweet his boyfriend can be sometimes. He lifts his hand to card his fingers through Harry's hair gently, comfortingly, while Harry's eyes slip closed again. "And you're really really good at it, you know," he tells him, earning a small smile from the sick boy beside him. "But you know, I love taking care of you just as much. One of my favorite things in the world, it is. So if you don't mind, I'd like to keep doing it for the next few days, alright?"

Harry finally nods a little and opens his eyes again, rolling over onto his side. He shuffles a bit closer to Louis and Louis opens his arms to let him burrow inside, nose nuzzled right under his neck, breath warm and steady against his chest. "M'kay, Lou," he whispers, words getting slower and softer. "Just a few- a few days."

*

And when Harry wakes up the next morning he's hot again, and his fevers even higher and he spends a good hour on the bathroom floor. Louis finally convinces him to shower, but the shower only makes him worse and he ends up getting sick right on the floor of it. But Louis' there, helping to rinse him off, getting him into bed, bleaching the shower much like he did with the sink. He's there with painkillers and water and tea and ginger ale and lots of kisses and cuddles and an extra blanket when it's needed. And a few times, Harry finds himself apologizing, telling Louis' he's fine, telling him to get some sleep and calm down. But when that happens Louis just raises an eyebrow, gives a stern look. "Let me take care of you," he says with a gentle, fond look in his eyes. And Harry can't say no.


End file.
